MVP
by denise1
Summary: Jack is feeling a little down after Show and Tell and his friends help him out


MVP

By

Denise

Jack rolled out of bed, groaning softly at the dull ache shooting from his shoulder. He was definitely overdue for another dose of Janet's magic pills. In a bit. There was something else he had to take care of first. Forgoing the lights, he padded down the hall, trying to remember where it was. He knew it had to be in the attic, just not exactly which box it was in.

He opened the door and flipped on the light, wincing as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden brightness. He climbed the bare wooden steps, his unshod feet making no sound. Reaching the top he paused, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. The attic was narrow, running the length of the house, with a small window at each end. Other than a floor, the room was unfinished. Bare rafters, some decorated with cobwebs, cast eerie shadows thanks to the light from the naked 100-watt bulb. Under the eaves, small stacks of boxes and plastic crates lined the room. Like attics everywhere, there was an air of dustiness, of abandonment, all around him. It reminded Jack vaguely of walking into a crypt, the walls lined with little boxes containing the remains of someone, each shielded from view and neatly labeled.

Or in this case, maybe not so neatly. Some of the boxes had names but a lot of them didn't. Most of the unlabeled ones were recent, he knew, relegated to the attic by Sara while he'd been off on the Abydos mission. She'd been urging him for months to pack up Charlie's stuff, but he couldn't. He just had not been able to let go. In the end she was stronger than he had been.

Picking one at random, he made his way across the naked floorboards and knelt in front of it. The flaps were simply tucked into each other making it possible, if a bit awkward, to open one handed. Finding nothing but clothes he pushed the box aside, making a mental note to see about getting rid of the stuff. Maybe the Salvation Army could use them. They weren't doing anyone any good rotting up here.

Pulling another box close to him, he pulled off the lid. His stomach sank as his eyes saw what was inside. This was the one, the box he was looking for. It contained an odd jumble of toys, some old, some new. Slowly he pulled the items out of the box, setting them beside the box on the floor. It had to be in here.

He drew out a battered teddy bear, a worn and pitted hockey puck, a tiny little league trophy. He held the shiny figure up and read the inscription. 'Charlie O'Neill…Most Valuable Player'

_'Charlie…I like Charlie…it's a good name. Can I be called Charlie?'_

He remembered watching Charlie receive the trophy; he'd actually been able to attend the whole tournament for once. His son had run out into the field when his name was announced, jumping excitedly after his team had won. He'd never forget the look on his face when he'd been voted MVP, that open astonishment. The boy had slept with the trophy for a week.

Swallowing hard, Jack set the trophy aside and continued his digging. A handful of GI Joe's joined their compatriots on the floor, followed by toy airplanes. Planes had always fascinated Charlie. Jack didn't know if he really liked them or if it had something to do with growing up on air bases.

Setting the planes down, he reached back into the box and stopped as his fingers stumbled across the object of his search. With a shaking hand he pulled out the ball glove, the leather still supple and smelling of oil. He awkwardly slipped the fingers of his left hand into the palm. He could fit no more than the ends of his fingers into the slots since it was scaled for a child sized palm, not a full-grown man. Had Charlie's hand really been that small? Yeah, he remembered when Charlie was a baby, how the tiny creature had struggled to wrap his whole hand around his dad's fingers.

Caressing the palm of the glove he remembered buying it for his son. The MVP should have a new glove, not the battered one Jack had used when he was a kid. Jack had spent hours softening up the glove, rubbing saddle soap into it until the leather was butter soft. He'd meant to give it to his son for his birthday, but then he'd been called away. A week long mission later he was finally able to give it to Charlie…or try to. Instead they'd had a fight. Charlie had run off to sulk in his room…and died two weeks later.

"Jack? Are you ok? I thought you were asleep."

"Go away Daniel," Jack said quietly, silently cursing his friend's presence in his house. Jack hadn't wanted Daniel to stay, hadn't wanted anyone for that matter. But permitting the roommate was the only way he'd escaped from Fraiser's grasp and an overnight stay in the infirmary.

He heard the floorboards creak as the man come closer. "Maybe after you tell me what's so important that you had to come up here at 3am to dig it out of your attic."

Jack could hear him coming to a stop, standing right behind his shoulder. "Just something I had to do." Jack set the glove aside and started to pick up the other items, shoving them back into the box as fast as he could. "Go back to sleep."

"You'll break something if you keep tossing them in there," Daniel said, kneeling by Jack and carefully picking up the toys. He pulled the teddy bear out of Jack's hand and gently placed it into the box, repeating the gesture until everything was carefully packed away. "You know, I have some packing foam at home. I could bring it over and we could wrap all this stuff up so it doesn't get broken. We use it at digs all the time to protect the really important stuff," he said casually, carefully folding the flaps of the box closed.

Ignoring him, Jack lurched to his feet, his sling-encased arm throwing his balance off a bit. Bending over he picked up the glove and headed towards the stairs. With a sigh Daniel followed him, shutting off the light and closing the door. He followed his friend down to the darkened living room, refraining from saying anything when Jack headed straight towards the shelf where the colonel kept his small supply of liquor. Still silent, Jack eased himself down on the couch, not bothering to push aside the blankets Daniel had been using. He set the glove down on the coffee table and propped the bottle of whisky between his legs, using his good hand to twist off the lid.

Daniel heard the gurgle of fluid as Jack upended the bottle, taking a slug of the liquor. Joining his friend on the couch he reached out and took the bottle from him, ignoring Jack's protest as he also took a drink of the liquor. He passed the bottle back and leaned against the cushions. "Hell of a day huh?"

"Ya think," Jack grunted.

"I wonder if it worked?" Daniel asked, reaching for the bottle again.

"What worked?"

"Jacob's idea, making Charlie a host."

Jack shrugged; hissing through his teeth as the movement jarred his shoulder. "Dunno."

"It should work you know. I mean if Selmac can cure Jacob's cancer it stands to reason that a symbiote could fix Charlie's …problems."

"I guess," Jack answered quietly.

"And if it does it's good for the Tok'ra…and Charlie."

"When did getting a snake in your head become a good thing?" Jack demanded.

"When it keeps you alive," Daniel suggested weakly.

"When? You mean if. No matter what promises Jacob may make we have no idea if there was even a symbiote available. And then we have no idea if it would work. Remember what Carter said, how Jacob almost didn't make it?" Jack reminded him.

"Well sure I remember. Just like how I remember you and Sam being a few hours away from freezing to death, or how we nearly lost Teal'c to those bugs."

"So?"

"So, my point is that from the moment you're born your body starts to die. The only constant in the universe is its inconsistency. Maybe the blending worked, maybe it didn't. But at least he has a chance."

The conversation faded, the two men falling silent as the stillness of the night again reclaimed the room. They sat there until dawn, each lost in his own thoughts until a combination of alcohol and exhaustion drew them into the arms of Morpheus.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A week later Jack was strolling down the halls of the SGC alternately cursing and thanking Doctor Fraiser. The good news was, he was cleared for duty. The bad news, light duty. Which translated to paperwork, paperwork and yet more paperwork. Quite frankly, as many reports as he filled out in triplicate, it was a minor miracle that the stargate was still a secret. Hell, at least a third of the seven point four billion dollar budget had to be paper.

Entering his office and tossing some folders containing said paperwork, onto his desk he spared a thought to Daniel and Carter. They had to be up to something. Both of them seemed to always be in the middle of…something. And as commander of the team he should really know what they were up to. The last time he'd left them alone they had Teal'c using the gateroom as a firing range. Hammond had so not liked that. And it was his duty as their CO to make sure they weren't doing anything to make the old man mad. Grabbing the excuse like a drowning man clutches at a life preserver, he abandoned his office and the waiting paperwork and headed to the control room.

Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs the klaxons started to wail. Hurrying up the small flight of stairs he stopped and stood aside as Carter, Daniel and General Hammond descended the large spiral staircase.

"What's up?" Jack asked.

"Unauthorized gate activation, sirs," Sargent Davis reported, barely sparing them a glance over his shoulder.

"Close the iris," Hammond ordered. "Who's off world?"

"SG-4, 5, and 8," Sam reported.

"Receiving IDC, sir," Davis interrupted. "It's the Tok'ra."

"Open the iris," Hammond ordered. The metal barrier spun open, revealing the wavering blue surface of the gate. After a couple of minutes a form emerged from the illusion of water and stood at the top of the ramp. "Defense teams, stand down," Hammond ordered as the three members of SG-1 made their way from the control room and into the gateroom.

"Martouf, hi," Sam said, stepping forward. "Is everything ok?"

"Samantha, hello. I was sent to deliver these to you." He held out three TERS. "An agent of ours just acquired these and Jacob said you could use them."

She took the weapons and passed them off to one of the SF's with orders to take them to the armory. "Thank you. Yes."

"That's service. Jacob said it would be a while before you guys got more of these," Jack said.

Martouf smiled. "Normally yes, however there was a bit of fortunate timing involved. However, it is not the only reason for my visit." He turned to Jack. "Selmac wishes to request your presence."

Jack stared for a second. "Me?" He pointed at his chest. "What does Selmac want with me?"

"He did not specify. Just that I was to retrieve you and the rest of SG-1 and take you to a meeting place," Martouf said apologetically.

"Colonel O'Neill is still recovering from his injuries and is not cleared for active duty," Hammond said, having followed SG-1 down to the gateroom.

"Selmac was most insistent. It is my understanding that it is not a mission but simply a meeting. Selmac has something for Colonel to see."

"General?" Jack turned to his CO. True he could take or leave the Tok'ra…but he was just bored enough to want to go see what had Selmac's metaphorical panties in a bunch.

"Very well. SG-1 you have a go. Colonel, I expect you to remember what 'light duty' means," he warned. "Doctor Fraiser will not take kindly to having to re-do any of her hard work." He looked meaningfully at Jack's slinged arm.

"Yes, sir," Jack replied, suitably warned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, Marty…What's the big secret?" Jack asked, walking beside the Tok'ra as his team walked in front of and behind the pair. He'd felt his curiosity grow ever since they'd exited from the gate onto a nicely green planet. If this world had any of the seemingly requisite sand the Tok'ra seemed to prefer, Jack could see none of it here. The area surrounding the gate looked like an alpine meadow with short grass liberally colored with a multitude of small flowers. Off a bit, he could see the expected conifer trees and way off, a small range of mountains.

"Perhaps you should ask Selmac," Martouf said enigmatically, pointing at two figures just emerging from the trees.

Jacob was walking towards them, holding the hand of a small figure attired in a scaled down version of the Tok'ra uniform. Jack saw Jacob pause and point at them. The smaller figure broke away, running towards them. Surprised, Jack met Martouf's slightly smug gaze, then abandoned the Tok'ra to hurry forward. "Charlie," he cried, kneeling down as the now healthy boy threw himself at him.

"Jack! You came!" He hugged Jack tight.

"Of course I came. How are you?" Jack returned the hug, ignoring how much it hurt his shoulder.

"I'm all better. Singer fixed me," the boy said, standing back a bit.

"Singer?" Jack asked, shooting a glance at Jacob who had now joined them.

"The symbiote's name is Bevel," the ex-general explained. "Charlie calls her Singer."

"She sings to me," the boy said.

"Well, that explains it," Jack said with a smile. "So it worked?" he asked Jacob.

"She has repaired the congenital defects," Martouf said as he joined them.

"And you're ok with this?" Jack asked the boy.

"I like Singer. She's like Mother."

"The symbiote will be relatively dormant," Selmac said. "Now that she has stabilized his growth and development, Bevel has agreed to limit her effects upon Charlie's metabolism."

"She's going to let him grow up normally, sir," Sam interjected.

"You knew?"

"Jacob Carter communicated the details of the successful blending while you were convalescing, O'Neill."

"And you what…forgot to tell me?"

Sam blushed. "Well, sir…."

"It was General Hammond's idea, Jack. He thought you'd like the surprise," Daniel defended. "We thought we'd give Charlie and Bevel time to get acquainted and you time to heal enough to use this." Daniel held out a ball glove, almost identical to the one he had at home.

"And this." Sam held out a brand new ball.

"I believe this is required as well, O'Neill." The Jaffa presented him with a baseball bat Jack had somehow missed. Jack met the bemused gazed of his team, each apparently a willing conspirator and was torn between strangling them for keeping the secret, and hugging them for doing the same.

"What is this Jack?" Charlie reached out and took the ball, staring at it quizzically.

"This is something every kid should know." Jack got to his feet. "You guys coming?" he asked the rest of his team.

"Jack?"

"It's called catch, Daniel. And considering that half the people here have never heard of it, everyone has to play."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

An hour later Jack eased himself down on a convenient rock, rolling his shoulders and wishing that his friends had smuggled a six pack along with the baseball stuff.

"Are you tired already?" Daniel asked, sitting beside him.

"Just taking a breather," Jack replied, accepting the canteen his friend offered. "He looks like he's having fun." Jack watched Charlie hit a wobbly grounder then run towards the makeshift first base, half-heartedly pursued by a laughing Jacob.

"I think he is. Jacob said they found a home for him. The Tok'ra know of some refugee planets, nice low tech worlds that are so far off the beaten track that the Goa'uld won't care about them. He's going to send Charlie there, let him grow up…well as normally as he can."

"There's those words again…grow up," he said in response to Daniel's look.

Daniel didn't respond and they continued to bask in the sun, enjoying the antics of the five people on the field. "I'm glad it worked," he said abruptly.

"What?"

"Jacob and Selmac, Charlie and Singer. I…I keep thinking how horrible it must be to share your body with another being. I mean look at what Apophis' host went through. What Shau'ri and Skaara are going through. But then…"

"You wish there'd been a symbiote around when you'd needed one," Jack finished.

"Or two," Daniel confirmed. "I…I know it's not possible or even probable but…"

"You just have days when you want them back."

"Yeah."

A sudden out cry drew their attention back to the field. The teams had switched and Teal'c had just hit an easy pop fly right at Charlie, who was now chasing Sam down with the ball, trying for the double play. They watched the major run in circles for a bit before allowing herself to be tackled by the boy, both of them rolling in the grass.

"Daniel, is it my imagination or are the aliens beating us?"

"Sorta. The last I knew it was Earth two, aliens three."

"Well now, that just isn't right. Let's show these snake heads how to play ball."

Fin


End file.
